


Bicycle

by mrstaemin (TheTroninator)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:50:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTroninator/pseuds/mrstaemin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavin makes a dumb bet with Michael.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bicycle

“Michael, did you know that I can ride my bicycle without using the handlebars?” Gavin smiled at his friend cheekily, leaning back in his office chair and folding his arms behind his head.

“Congratulations, you can do what most children have mastered by the third grade,” Michael replied, uninterested. He had been doing work on his computer, typing and clicking uninterrupted for hours, and Gavin’s random personal factoid, spontaneous as it was, couldn’t distract Michael. 

Gavin, however, was not discouraged by Michael’s apathy. Rather, the notably more cheerful guy continued to brag on his less-than-valuable skill. “But Michael, I can turn as well without the handlebars.”

“Call the press.” The focused Michael muttered under his breath.

Still undeterred, Gavin persisted to boast. “I’ll bet you that I can do a wheelie while riding my bike. No handlebars.”

Finally Michael was interested. “Alright, how much?” he asked, removing his headphones fully and making eye contact.

Gavin tapped his chin. “You give me a hundred dollars and I get to give you a Mohawk.”

“And what if you can’t?”

“I’ll give you a hundred dollars and you get to give me a Mohawk.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “That’s retarded. Your head’s shaved.”

“Then you can wax my chest.” Gavin had clearly not thought out that bet.

“Deal, you idiot.” Michael rose from his office chair. “Let’s go.”

Gavin then seemed to realize what a dumb bet he had made. He had never done the wheelie before and wasn’t even sure if it was physically possible to do without the handlebars. And as much as Gavin hated to admit it, he did have a rather hairy chest. 

Gavin began stuttering. “Uh-um, don’t you need to finish your work there?”

“Hell no, it can wait.” Michael led Gavin out of the office, calling down the hall, “Geoff! Grab a camera and go to the parking lot!” 

Gavin had taken his bike to work that morning for exercise, but he hadn’t bothered with a helmet on account of not being a kid anymore. Standing in the parking lot in his tightish jean shorts, squinting at the bike, he began to think of ways this could turn out. Every thought led to the hospital, so he simply sighed and mounted what he called the saddle of the bike while Geoff, Michael, Ray, Gus, and others stood to the side waiting. 

“Get on with it, Gavin,” Geoff called from behind a camera, having been filled in by Michael the details of the bet.

Gavin knew why he’d made the bet. He’d been ignored by a busy Michael all morning and wanted him to pay attention to him, like a little puppy. Gavin mentally kicked himself for being so childish, but nevertheless began pedaling to pick up speed. 

“Should I pop the wheelie or let go first?” Gavin mumbled to himself, getting faster. 

He decided to pop up the front wheel first, pulling up the handlebars and leaning a little bit. As he wobbled on his back tire a bit, he began making noises of distress, squealing.

“Let go!” Michael shouted, laughing at his moaning friend.

Gavin did let go and for a moment, it appeared as though he had been successful. But it didn’t take long for things to go wrong. Within milliseconds, Gavin flopped to the pavement and felt the warm stickiness of blood tickling his elbow and calf. He couldn’t tell if his head had hit the ground or not, but he felt dizzy and could barely see straight. 

Footsteps clambered toward him and he could hear Geoff shouting, “Gavin! Are you alright, buddy?”

He tried to speak but all that came out was “sausages,” muffled. 

As his vision refocused, he could see his friend Michael knelt beside him. “You idiot,” he mumbled, reaching out a hand to him.

Gavin smiled at Michael as the moments that he had just experienced replayed in his mind. He grabbed Michael’s hand and he was pulled to his feet. His right leg was sore, he noticed upon standing. He glanced down and saw the blood running down his leg and onto his sock. He felt a bit nauseous. “Michael, will you help me?” Gavin asked.

Michael wasn’t quite sure what his friend wanted him to do, but since he had distracted him from his boring work with that entertaining spectacle, he figured he’s do his best for him. So Michael scooped up the taller boy.

“Michael!” Gavin exclaimed in his heaviest British accent.

“Shut up. I got you,” the shorter boy said easily. Gavin was so light and easy to lift.

Ray picked up Gavin’s mostly-intact bike and put it away while the others filed back inside to get back on with their work as Gavin did not appear to be too badly injured. 

Michael took Gavin into the kitchen and set him down at the table. “You’re so stupid,” Michael teased. 

“Yeah, well, I think you make me want to do stupid things sometimes,” Gavin replied. The implications of what he had just said didn’t really occur to him.

Michael smiled to himself as he took the first-aid kit down from the cupboard. “Well, anyway, I guess you’re not the only dumb one. It looks like I owe you a hundred bucks and a bad haircut.”

Gavin was shocked. “How’s that? I failed.”

Michael shrugged. “It looked to me like you were doing a wheelie without your hands. I mean, it was hard to tell since you hit the asphalt so fast, but for a second, I think you had it.”

Gavin was beside himself. “I won!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, you,” Michael replied with a hint of sarcasm, bringing a wet paper towel over to him. “You with the bloody leg and arm are a real winner.”

“And with the bonked head,” Gavin added, rubbing his scalp. “I think I hit my noggin a bit.”

Michael rolled his eyes, handing his friend the towel to wipe up his road burn. He made an ice bag while Gavin dabbed his leg, lightly bouncing the towel on the blood.

“So, are you coming over tonight so I can give you the Mohawk?” Gavin asked, a grin slyly spreading across his face.

Michael smirked in spite of himself, turning to Gavin with the ice bag in hand. “I guess so, you little prick.”


End file.
